Flickering Flames
by rhygell
Summary: Warning: Some language and SLASH. An adapted version of a chapter in Greek Mythology. Nuriko is the most beautiful mortal and it is really no surprise that Hotohori should fall for him ... too bad, Hotohori's mom hates Nuriko.


A/N: Please be gentle!!! This is my first finished Fushigi Yuugi fic so ...  
  
Flickering Flame  
  
Eros and Psyche  
  
[Fushigi Yuugi Adaptation]  
  
It happened once when the gods different from what they had known rule the earth. Four royal siblings live at a prosperous country with their loving parents. Prince Mitsukake, the eldest, excels in the field of medicine and was rumored that Chichiri himself, the sun god, taught him. Prince Tamahome, however, is the expert in sports and battle. The youngest boy was Prince Nuriko, who had been gifted/cursed of superhuman strength. The youngest of the four and the only girl, Princess Kourin, possessed surpassing beauty that when she was nine, Nakago, the deity of love, killed her in spite, and thought that his problem was done.  
  
Since then, Prince Nuriko had been devastated and dressed like the Princess. His parents had passed away prior to his sister's death; so his brother, Mitsukake, became King, taking the responsibility of the eldest child and had approved of his brother's peculiarity; the people not minding this at all.  
  
It seemed that it was Nuriko who had demised and not Kourin due to their likeness in their looks. So, in eight years time, when he was eighteen, Mitsukake was twenty-two, and Tamahome, the one who had endured two year of enchanted sleep, was then seventeen, he grew up to have an appearance to rival the God of Love.  
  
Traveling at one time in his chariot, Nakago passed the country of Konan, and was pleased by the number of people queued at a large pagoda near the Royal Château. Just outside the said temple, a massive marble statue stood. Descending, unseen by the mortal ningen, he surveyed the stone sculpture. But what outrage this is! For it was not his image that the monument bears, it was an image of one of the four children of the last King of Konan. Either Nuriko or Kourin, he wasn't sure, but it didn't matter.  
  
Detouring to check his own jinja, he passed a few more pagodas of the like. Upon reaching the place he sought after, a ghastly sight greeted him. There was no sacrifices, no people, not even incense; he checked every nook and cranny of the building, and he proved his query: the last time incense was lighted or a sacrifice was offered was a few months ago.  
  
In a rage, he journeyed to his castle, whipping his steeds, making them gallop even faster than Tomite, messenger of the gods. When he reached his abode in a surly mood, he snapped at a servant to summon his son, Hotohori, immediately. Afraid that the god would unleash his wrath unto her, she went to the son of Nakago and informed him of his father's dilemma.  
  
"Doushita, Otousama?" Hotohori asked him upon his arrival.  
  
Nakago pumped his foot impatiently. "How many times, Hotohori? I am not your father. I may be your parent but I am never your father. I can, by what is necessary, turn into a woman. I am the characterization of love and beauty so I will never be your father. Remember that. By how else would you call Tasuki?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever, Nakago-sama. So what do you need me for?"  
  
The God of Beauty sighed. "A ningen had stolen my title of god of beauty and now the mortals of the four Sacred Countries are bowing before that purple haired bitch!  
  
"Now, all I wanted you to do is to shoot an Arrow of Love on that Nuriko and make that shit be infatuated by a bakemono or something. I need you to accomplish that right now, and I do mean right now. Go."  
  
Hotohori, who had not been listening that well to him, stood at proper stance and took of in the air right away, just stopping by the two fountains outside the said castle, the Fountain of Sweet Waters and of Bitter. Getting a little of each in two porcelain jars, he departed for his mission. Muttering about getting-ancient gits, he flew overhead languidly, on the early morn, most of the people were still asleep. Finally reaching the Château, he flitted inside one of the parts of the higher floors. There were a half a dozen rooms in that wing but he was sure that one of the ones on the left overlooking the garden is the chamber of Nuriko.  
  
Going inside the first room, he found a bed and two people sharing it. One was with brown hair - a female - while the other one was male with green-blue short hair. He was sure that none of these were Nuriko. Same for the next room, which was occupied by a young man in his early twenties with a short black hair sheared in a flattop style, a white and brown tabby cat by his side; after all they didn't have the distinct purple hair his father had mentioned [uh, gomen, Nakago is his okasama ^. ^].  
  
There could be no mistake that the occupant of the last chamber by the garden was Nuriko's. He passed through the door and looked over at the canopy bed to look at the famed beauty.  
  
At the moment, Nuriko's covers were over his head. He stirred and lowered the sheets just enough to give Hotohori a look at his face. He poured a few drops from the bitter fountain over his full lips though the sight of him moved him to pity. Touching his cheek with the point of his arrow, Nuriko's eyes fluttered open, having a vision of lovely, light golden brown eyes. In confusion, Hotohori forgot his invisibility and backed away, pricking himself with his arrow in the process. Not taking notice of his wound, he sprinkled him the waters of the sweet spring in an impulse, over his purple locks.  
  
But Nuriko was still despised by Nakago, who derived him of the benefits of his charms. Though he had a whole battalion, more or less, of suitors of both sexes, no one even dared to speak to him, regarding him as a god and unworthy of their mortal gaze. He, in exasperation, just kept to himself, tending the willow tree growing outside his room or visiting his elder brothers and their wives. Mitsukake's wife, Shouka, suggested that he might need to consult the oracle of Chichiri, since that he may have angered the gods in someway or the other.  
  
So, they - Nuriko, Shouka, and Miaka, Tamahome's wife - journeyed to the oracle. Inside, they found a young boy of thirteen, probably a priest. After inquiring about his name, ancestry, and age, a reply was received.  
  
"The individual is to be destined the spouse of no mortal lover. The husband waits on the mountain. He is a monster whom neither of gods nor men can resist."  
  
When the news spread, everybody - male, female, and his supporters alike - was filled with dismay. Why did, of all people, Nuriko was chosen to be befallen of such fate?  
  
Though people around him were mourning for his destiny, he kept silent, not a slight sorrow passing his face, as the sundown loomed closer, marking his ascension to the mountain. While preparations were made, he just sat underneath the slender branches of the yanagi, knowing that he was about to meet the possessor of those kirei eyes he saw; he knew that they had been destined. At an hour before the sunset, he, clothed in red bridal robes, took his place in the nuptial procession, carried in a bridal chair, and, upon arriving at the foot of the mountain, was deserted by his subjects to climb alone, hearing weeping and lamenting from them. He started climbing and when he reached the peak, the gentle Amiboshi, the west wind, lifted him into the air and delivered him to a grassy slope. There, he fell asleep and after sometime, woke up at the sound of chirping birds, and saw a grove of bamboo shoots. Just past it was a fountain and an august manor, clearly, not work of human  
hands but, surely, a god's luxurious retreat, which he approached and entered, all the objects inside met him with amazement. Golden pillars supported marble halls; walls were enriched with carvings and painted of splendid scenes while other apartments were filled with still more precious and priceless works of art and nature.  
  
While looking around, a voice from an invisible individual addressed him and said, "All of these things are yours, Nuriko-sama. We, the voices you hear, are your servants. Please, if you may, retire to your chamber, or feast upon the fine fare awaiting for you in an adjoining alcove; maybe perhaps, a bath first, Oojo-sama?"  
  
After the refreshing bath, wherein he anointed himself with different fragrant oils and thoroughly cleansed himself, then he ate at the alcove delicacies and nectarous wines while listening to unseen performers play the lute.  
  
Assisted to his room by his invisible attendants, he removed the pins from his hair and loosened it from its intricate arrangement. He changed his robes behind a dressing screen and fell asleep in a canopy bed in exhaustion.  
  
Hotohori arrived sometime later. He climbed on the bed, forgetting that in that particular time, someone was also occupying it. He was very startled when he had nudged something soft and warm. In the dim light of the moon, he saw that it was Nuriko. Quite uncomfortably, he shut his eyes and tried to sleep wherein Nuriko snuggled to his chest. He drew back, apprehensive, but Nuriko just moved closer, surprisingly seemingly fitted to the contours of his body. He blinked, trying to comprehend what it meant. Simple, really, it is. They are two halves of a whole, brought back together. Holding his bride close, he slumbered peacefully, contented at long last of loneliness.  
  
The next night, Hotohori slipped as discreetly as he did. As he expected, Nuriko was fast asleep, face bathed by the moonlight. He put his quiver of arrows in a table, and lay down next to him. Stroking his face tenderly with his hand, he brushed the hair out of Nuriko's face and kissed him tentatively on the lips. Half asleep, Nuriko responded, touching his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Hotohori was taken by surprise but smiled, kissing him with more force now, more passion than he ever showed in his life, hungry with yearning and ardor. Taking Nuriko's hidari te in his, he settled on the satin sheets, and closed his eyes. A few moments after, his other hand moved down on Hotohori's hip to his groin. He groaned softly as Nuriko's hand crept lower to his arousal. He shifted his weight to his left side and unintentionally gripped him more firmly, almost making him yelp aloud as a jolt of something very similar to lightning coursed through his body. After a few  
seconds, however, to Hotohori's disappointment (~. ^), his hand slipped away and rested on Hotohori's thigh, wherein he finally fell sound asleep.  
  
It has been a week since he arrived in the mansion, and Nuriko still hadn't seen his husband. He had spent most of his time reading the scribes stocked in the library or tending the grove of trees in a slight slope near his home or in the company of his invisible servants, telling him stories about the great gods. But he got tired of it and, soon enough, wanted to get to know his husband better and spend sometime with him, to perform his duties as his wife. So that night, he performed his ablutions in the most thorough manner and made himself ready for bed.  
  
He arrived that night and was rather startled when he saw that he was still awake and seemingly waiting for him.  
  
Nuriko spied on the tall dark figure emerging from the window. He stood up, bowing low, that his face almost touched the floor. "At last, my lord, I finally had the chance to meet you physically. I am destined to be your wife by the oracle of Chichiri-sama and it is my greatest and utmost honor to be speaking to you."  
  
Hotohori, touched by his sincerity, humility, and the sweet melodic voice, grasped his upper arm, raised him gently to his feet, and pulled him into his arms. Murmuring gratification, Nuriko nestled to his chest in satisfaction. In a clear voice, he spoke to him. "My love, I deeply regret that I only can spend the hours of the night in your presence. If heaven may allow, I would have chosen to be with you on all times."  
  
"But my lord," Nuriko whispered, "why must I not be allowed to behold your august figure? Why must I not be allowed to lay my eyes on such loving spouse?"  
  
His lover spoke in a soft tone. "As much as I would have liked, I must not; you might fear or adore me, but all I ask of you is love most pure. I would had rather you love me as an equal than adore me as a god."  
  
Nuriko didn't pry after this and seemed pacified by Hotohori's answer. Hotohori led him to the bed and lay down. Nuriko followed his suit and rested his head on Hotohori's shoulder, contented in being held close by his lover.  
  
At the early hours of dawn, when Takiko, the moon, is to retire, Nuriko woke up with a start. Looking around to see what had been the cause of his untimely consciousness, he saw his husband prepare to leave. Begging him to stay, he did not consent and kissing him hastily, he disappeared completely out of the window by the time the first rays of the sun broke through the horizon.  
  
This continued for a few months; Nuriko still did not see Hotohori and he did not arrive before the night nor did he leave later than the dawn. But when darkness falls, the two of them exchanges words of passion and can't be parted until dawn breaks.  
  
As time went on, he remembered his kingdom and his siblings and grew homesick. He told his distress to his lord, who, reluctantly, agreed that they visit him.  
  
Amiboshi, promptly obedient to his masters' requests, soon brought them with their wives to their brother's valley. He met them at the fancy awning; Miaka gaped while the others stood rooted to the spot, speechless; they thought that Nuriko had perished at the doings of his foretold husband.  
  
Escorting the party to his house, he toured them inside the spacious halls; his brothers stunned in shock, the unseen servants another cause of their astonishment. He led them to the dining foyer and while Miaka stuffed herself, they discussed what had happened to him during the past month. He elaborated, telling them that his husband kept showering him with gifts and loved him truly, though he just visited him from time to time. After some persuasion, nevertheless, he told them that he had never seen his face. At this, Miaka looked up and voiced their increasing malady. "Nuriko-chan, what if your husband is indeed a monster, waiting for you to be completely under its control then..." she gulped fretfully, looking around. No one met her gaze.  
  
Nuriko was thunderstruck. He giggled nervously. "Surely, you are only joking, Miaka-chan? I mean, he...I know he really loves me! And..." He watched their reaction.  
  
"If he really is a monster, you need to kill him. Tonight. Before he might move on to other unsuspecting ladies at his mercy," Mitsukake said quietly. Tamahome nodded, avoiding Nuriko's gaze as Shouka fidgeted in her seat.  
  
Nuriko stood up angrily, banging the marble table. It cracked audibly, powdering the white stone. "I am absolutely fine with my husband and well-assured that he loves me, if not equally, more than I love him. I thank you of your audience with me. I would now request of you to leave immediately. Onegai shimasu."  
  
At that, they stood up, heads bowed, exiting the magnificent villa, Amiboshi transporting them back home.  
  
When they had left, Nuriko stormed into the bath chamber and sunk into the warm waters, lulling his senses contentedly to the fumes of the perfumed liquid, pondering the things they had said to him that afternoon.  
  
He had to admit that they have some good points he can't ignore. Like, what really is his husband? For all he knew, he may be an evil spirit of some kind that will take his life, or worse, use his body and inflict pestilence to the people by the means of his Herculean strength.  
  
Who is he kidding? He chuckled at his own foolishness. He vowed his conviction to his love. Why would he need to doubt him? But the seed of curiosity had taken root in his heart. It wouldn't hurt if he tried to see his lord's face, a voice chided inside him. A voice. He shook his head. It almost seemed like Kourin's voice. Was it urging him on, or holding him back? He wasn't sure, but he had a plan.  
  
That night, after he had arranged his hair, he concealed a stub of candle under the downy mattress and a katana he had found in one of the treasure vaults beneath the bed. He quieted his thundering heart, but to no avail, as if something was not right in what he was about to do.  
  
He pushed these thoughts aside as Hotohori arrived as usual, embracing Nuriko. Showering him with kisses and sweet words, Nuriko tried his best to act as normally as he could. Thankfully, Hotohori didn't notice a thing. A few more minutes later, when the god of love still have his arm around him even in sleep, Nuriko got up, tiptoed over to the fire he had hidden and lit the candle, while with the other hand clutched the katana. Slinking closer to the bed, lighting his way by the flickering flames, he held his breath as he saw his husband for the first time. He gasped distinctly; the figure on the bed stirred but didn't open his eyes. His long brownish sea-green hair was pulled back from his face and was nestled in wings of pure white. It was the god of love himself, Hotohori, son of Nakago, god/goddess of love and beauty! In a thousand years, he didn't think that actually, the god of love would fall in love with a mere male mortal like him. Placing the katana under the bed  
where he had placed it before, he sat next to Hotohori in the bed, and ran his fingers through his silken hair. Leaning over, he planted a soft kiss on his lips. Unfortunately, his hand slipped and melted wax dribbled down the side of the candle and a drop fell on Hotohori's bare shoulder. With a cry of pain, he woke up suddenly, and seeing the situation, he stood up without any other word. Nuriko saw that he had the light golden-brown eyes that he saw in his dream months ago. On the other hand, it didn't bear the love and passion he had recognized that time.  
  
"Nuriko." His heart broke by just hearing him say his name in that tone. "Sayonara."  
  
Pleading, on his knees, Nuriko hugged his legs, trying to keep him from going, tears in his eyes. Hotohori answered him. "Love cannot be with suspicion." He himself had shed tears but his eyes were firm and resolute. "Sayonara, Nuriko." He wrenched himself from Nuriko's grasp and fled.  
  
Instantaneously, the splendid chalet vanished and left him sprawled on a rocky plane in the peak of a mountain somewhere in Sairou. Not caring about anything but the loss of his beloved, he cried and, letting out his anguish, shorn of his long purple hair, where it reached only up to his shoulder, like Tamahome's. After long, extensive hours of weeping, he finally composed himself enough to think of traveling to look for his Hotohori-sama.  
  
A nymph who had viewed the whole scene flitted as fast as he can to Konankoku, to give an account to the King of what had happened to his brother.  
  
Nakago was enraged when he found out that Nuriko had been taken by his son for his wife, deserted him when he tried to see his face and had taken refuge in his house.  
  
"So I guess my son had all ready paid for his impudence," he muttered. "That leaves... yes. Nuriko. I'm sure he will search for his husband..." He glanced at the adjacent wing, where he knew his son had been concealed, nursing himself back to health. "Guess I'll play my part as his parent-in-law." Calling on a nymph impatiently, he made her carry out the preparations for Nuriko's anticipated appearance in the near future.  
  
Nuriko, at last coming to his right sense of mind, wandered around the countries to seek his lover, when he came to a dismal jinja in the outskirts of Toran in Hokkankoku. Investigating, he found a miserable scene. Heaps of grain lay scattered all over the floor. Bottles of sake littered and cobwebs coat the statue of the presiding goddess as if not been visited or cared for in years. Ripping a strip of silk from his robe, he wiped the monument gently, and after he was done, arranged the offerings in neat piles. As he disposed of the other garbage and surveyed his handiwork, for once in a long time feeling beneficial, an aura of soothing shiroi chi was present in the temple, lighting up the gloomy mood of the room. He turned and saw a vision of a young lady of about twenty-something with long, curling white hair appeared from the stone itself, the goddess of the temple.  
  
"Speak, my child, of what service I can perform for you, for I am the presiding deity of this jinja, Subaru, and you have greatly pleased me of such conduct. Arigato gozaimashita. What can I do for you?"  
  
"You needn't do anything, Subaru-sama." But after some urging of the goddess, he relented. "I am a son of the fourth King of Konankoku, Nuriko." The goddess stifled a gasp, which Nuriko nonetheless noticed. "My fate is to be wed to an immortal whose powers none can resist, god nor ningen. However, he had left me due to an incident, and now, I am searching for him. I merely wanted to appease his anger, or better yet, retain his love for me."  
  
Subaru already knew that he was talking about Hotohori, who had come to her a week ago to confide in her and bade her not to say a word to his lover. So, instead, she attempted to advise him subtly without giving away anything.  
  
"If you want to rekindle past love, why not consult the god of love and beauty himself? He may be able to help you with your dilemma." Nuriko nodded, bowed low, knowing that Nakago was Hotohori's father, thanked the goddess for her aid and went to the far east of Kutoukoku, to the deity's abode, hope in his heart.  
  
Taking him a few weeks before reaching the mentioned destination, he eventually arrived at the palace of the god Nakago. To his utmost surprise, he was received graciously by the servants and ushered into a waiting room where he was served fresh green o-cha and sweet cakes. He had not waited that long when Nakago appeared. Without further ado, Nuriko identified himself as the divinity's son-in-law, that he wished the forgiveness of the god in the half of the people whom had offended him beforehand and an audience with his husband. To this, Nakago put his foot down, and said, "Since I am your parent-in-law, why don't you do some service to me? In accomplishing those tasks, I would gladly give you my son, and forgive you and the people, no questions asked. I now give you a chance, though, to withdraw and find yourself a mortal lover, perhaps, and live peacefully, wherein I would abandon my wrath for you."  
  
As expected, he had come too far to back out now. He agreed on the circumstances. At once, Nakago brought him to a hall filled with different kinds of grain. Waving a hand, Nakago indicated these and loftily stated, "Just sort this out for me. No grain must be mixed, even one granule must not be found on the other piles. I need this at sunset. Be sure to have it ready by then, or else..." He drew a slender finger across his neck. "You understand me, I presume?" Nuriko nodded once.  
  
Choking back a lump in his throat, he scooped out a handful of corn, afterwards slumping on the floor in defeat. It was midday and the task was to be done at sundown. How could he execute such? He has superhuman strength, damn it, not some kind of supersonic speed! How will he ever see his beloved Hotohori-sama again if at his first chore, was too impossible? In vain he searched for something, anything, which can help him. After only a moment had passed, he saw a curious sight: ants marching in from a hole in the wall. To his surprise, each took a pellet in its back and according to kind, segregated the corresponding grain: barley, wheat, rice...  
  
In an hour, instead of the huge mass of scattered crop, neat piles of about two to four feet tall replaced it. When he checked, not a piece was out of place. Falling on his knees, he thanked Hotohori for sending the ants, for he knew that it was his lord's will.  
  
At sunset, Nakago, swaggered in to the large hall, expecting a distressed and weeping Nuriko, begging him forgiveness but...he sure wasn't ready of what he saw: the errand has been done, neatly. Nuriko went forward, bowed, awaiting for his reaction.  
  
"Yukata." His voice barely concealing a snarl, he managed a tight-lipped smile. "Rest for now, you need to be tested tomorrow." About to go out, he threw him a piece of bread, not larger than his fist and quite half-baked. He shut the door with a bang.  
  
Looking at the food in his hand, he bit of a piece and curled himself in a corner to sleep, looking up to see the seven south constellations in the summer sky.  
  
"Aishiteru, Hotohori-sama."  
  
"He couldn't have possibly done it," Nakago muttered to himself. "No ningen mortal could have done it." Pacing, he smacked a fist to his forehead. "Shimatta! That Hotohori!" He smiled to himself, however. "Well see about tomorrow then..."  
  
An early summer breeze ruffled Nuriko's hair. He was asked to go to the fields to get a sample of a certain crop. Trouble is, the place was rampaging with humungous oni. Not that he was afraid of them but Nakago also wanted to bring them, alive, back with the Bushel. He couldn't show his face; the bakemono will charge at him and destroy the couple of li of the Sacred Crop and he couldn't bring them back dead, either.  
  
So, he sat down near a stream, closed his eyes and speculated. After half an hour, he heard a voice calling him.  
  
"Nuriko, do not try to find me. I am Amefure, and I just came by and noticed you. This is my stream; I am its protector. How come you wanted to cross and gain the Crop of Immortality?"  
  
Prostrating himself, Nuriko hastily explained his present situation. After this, Amefure spoke again. "Then, you must make the noon pass, and wait for them to sleep. Get what you need and drag the oni with his foot; it is its most weak spot."  
  
Thanking him, the Prince waited for another two hours, the most, to go by and did as he was told. Pulling off his undertakings, he traveled eastward back to Nakago's mansion but was hampered by a messenger-nymph from the god. She said, "Go and continue to your next duty: to get a jarful of water from a mountain in the southern part of Kutou, near the border of north of Konan. Waters of Truth, as they call it, you must take. It must be handed to Nakago-sama within this day. That is all." Then, the nymph vanished.  
  
Nuriko sighed to himself inwardly. "So I guess all that grueling task was worth nothing?" A tear slid down his cheek, which he brushed away impatiently. He thought of his next duty, instead of slipping into his gloom and doom.  
  
Water of what the heck it is? Does he really need to do this grubby work? If not only his beloved Hotohori-sama...it would all have been worthless. Why spend his time appeasing the god of love and beauty? He could live justly without love but...I can't lie to myself. I loved Hotohori. I had loved him all those time, ever since I had seen his eyes that fateful day...  
  
Well. Not that he can do much about it, can he? The Fates were the ones who decide. Try as he may, if he was meant to be an okama, so be it, all he knows and what he needed to know was that he loves Hotohori and the latter loves him. Hadn't he shown that he was willing to help by the means of those ants? Dwelling on these thoughts, he had passed the time and even surprised himself that he was already climbing a steep craggy slope. Embedded upon a crevice was a unique blend of different kinds of rare and precious gems. Slanting his head to one side, he saw a fissure, where a spout of water was trickling into a rather a small fountain. He tried to stretch as far as he could but to no avail, at once, a pungent odor filled his nostrils and steam gushed out with an acid-green liquid. His eyes began to water, and just when he was about to faint, a deep voice called him.  
  
Nuriko. Nuriko.  
  
He snapped his head around; the voice had been familiar. Shining red light penetrated through his closed eyes as the voice spoke again.  
  
Open your eyes, Nuriko.  
  
Without actually knowing why, he obeyed. What filled his vision were red, but not a glaring glow. His eyes adjusted and he saw a winged figure.  
  
Nuriko. Willow Warrior. Yanagi no Senshi. What brings you to this part of the Lands?  
  
"Suzaku-seikun." He paid reverence to the God of South. "I was told to fetch the Waters of Truth by Nakago-sama. But apparently, I am delayed as you can see."  
  
For love, I suppose. He nodded, knowing that he favored the will of the emotions. Hotohori, Star Warrior, Hoshi no Senshi, was meant to be yours as the Miko was destined to be with the Oni no Senshi. Fear not, for an illusion can be succeeded by a calm mind. Do, as you must, casually as you can.  
  
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. Muttering a prayer of thanks, he walked slowly but surely, not minding the steam billowing his tattered silk robes. He shut his senses, not wanting to smell the acrid smell, the smell of death...  
  
Feeling a frosty sprinkle near his left arm, he turned to this direction and filled the urn little by little. As soon as some drops were on the pottery, flames shot up around him; he could feel the heat that scorched his face, but remembered the deity's dire warning and concentrated on filling the urn.  
  
After it spilt out, he knew that he had gained the Waters of Truth and the steam, blaze, and putrid smell had receded. He opened his eyes at this point. A swirling mist of red, blue, white, and green were on the surface of the sacred liquid. A last flitting glance showed him Suzaku-seikun smiling benignly.  
  
Love is the best thing that can happen to you, my Senshi. Hotohori was meant to be yours forever and ever...  
  
"So. You're back. Alive." This time, he hadn't even to bother to hide his infuriation. "I'll deal with you tomorrow, Nuriko. If you give me in this box," a nymph handed him a bejeweled lacquer case, "the Essence of Beauty from Soi, Queen of the Underworld, I will surely pardon you. I want you to do this, since I have been treating my son for quite a while now..." he faked a sigh. "I am afraid that I had lost my gorgeousness a bit. How can I attend your upcoming festivities if I am to look as a ningen hag?"  
  
Nuriko had felt something was wrong in the scene although he didn't mention anything. He just listened for a while and when Nakago had left, a distant ringing buzzed in his mind.  
  
Do I really expect to achieve this task and get away with it? I mean...will Nakago-sama really give him back his husband? He laughed bitterly at the irony of it. Hotohori didn't love me anymore so he left me. How was I to know if he will love me back when I do all those crap Nakago said? Orders can't change peoples heart, even if...  
  
How can I ever think someone ordering him around? His father himself hated me from that day I came to be in this world! Subaru, Chichiri, Tomite, perhaps, can change his mind, or show him that I love him so? Maybe... Suzaku...   
  
In his mind, a faint memory clicked. Love is the best thing that could happen to you. Hotohori was meant to be yours forever and ever...  
  
Is it true though? Nuriko wasn't sure. All he knew of was that he loved and will continue on loving his Hotohori-sama. Drifting to sleep, he wasn't even remotely tensed about the result of his hard work, busy dreaming dreams of light golden brown eyes...  
  
He lifted his head up, facing the mild zephyr as he crossed a meadow of tall grasses and wild flowers. Holding the lacquer box in his left hand, he shielded his eyes with the other and scanned the expanse of the pampas for a place to rest. A weeping willow attracted his attention at once; he had been affiliated of this tree ever since, and sat down beneath its leaning branches, which were swaying slightly.  
  
He felt as if he could forget all his queries as he propped himself up on the trunk, gazing at the clouds on a perfect summer day.  
  
"It seems as you just might be Nuriko, Yanagi no Senshi, from the looks of how that responds to your touch. Then, you are the third son of the Fourth King of Konankoku. How come you are traveling to such direction?"  
  
He almost hit the person who almost suddenly appeared next to him and spoke about his bearings. Making a double take, he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear as he observed his companion.  
  
Soft brownish hair framed his kind violet eyes. His deep voice sounded like of no ningen; he was positive that he was a god. Affiliated with plants, he supposed, from the aura he felt around him.  
  
"So." He went to a rose shrub, plucked out a bud and presented it to Nuriko. He sniffed it delicately and smiled to him. "This is the path that leads to the Meikai. I know that you were the wife of Hotohori. I presume that you are doing what his father had been telling you to do?" He noticed the carved chest in his hand. "No need to tell. You need the Essence of Beauty from Soi, ne?" Giving him directions, he told him the quickest possible way to get to the Underworld and get back unscathed. Appreciatively, he said, "Arigato gozaimashita, ..."  
  
"Tatara. I govern over plants that seemed to be a handful for Subaru to handle herself. It has been a pleasure meeting you, Nuriko. Ja." He stepped behind a tree and when he investigated, found out that he was nowhere to be found.  
  
Hurrying on his way, he did what exactly Tatara-sama told him to, reaching the Meikai without any accidents to his relief.  
  
Soi accepted him graciously upon his arrival treating him in the appropriate manner, though he didn't eat any kind of food, for he had been forewarned that it was not to be done if you weren't willing to stay in the Underworld. Fulfilling his request almost immediately, she prolonged him of his chatting about the happenings in the Upper World. If only not remembering his curfew, he hastily departed, remorsefully to the Queen that he didn't get that much time as he had wanted. But he was dealing with important matters for the meantime. Like the love of his life, the source of his reason of being. A thing he sure wouldn't miss for a lifetime.  
  
His way home, too was deprived of mishaps. This aroused his suspicions but didn't took notice; all he wanted was to keep on going, to see his beloved even just for a while, if Heaven may permit.  
  
He snorted at himself. I'm getting too quixotic for my taste. Is it just because I survived after all those hardships?  
  
"Or maybe I am just destined to see him?" He smiled at the idea, knowing that his thoughts were not far-fetched. It's today. I know it. I can feel it.  
  
Am I fit to face him at this point, though? He asked himself dubiously.  
  
Why don't you open the box, and then give yourself a treat? Apply the Essence of Beauty on your mortal features, and by that you will be fit to even just look at your Master, a high-pitched voice hissed in his ear.  
  
The voice in his head agreed. What was to lose, anyway? Nakago surely wouldn't give you some, once you give it to him. On the other hand...  
  
But his hands were moving before he reached a final rational decision. He drew the light brocade cords, unwinding it, and began to open the chest, a sense of foreboding clear in his mind.  
  
A wisp of a dark vapor escaped the ornamented casket. He tried to close it again, to abolish his apparent folly, but it was too late for amends. It had crept from his hands to his arms, which turned pale and stiff. Now, he knew what it was that Tatara-sama had warned him about. The Essence of Beauty is not what it seems to be; since Soi-sama was the Queen of the Netherworld, beauty, for her, is death. The truth coming at him and when the impact of his brash actions had hit him, he collapsed in the meadow of tall grasses, an icy corpse.  
  
A winged figure flew high, soaring aloft the clouds, the Sun beaming on his immaculate white feathers. His brownish sea-green hair was tied back in a single knot, while his light golden brown eyes skimmed the terra firma below.  
  
"Doko?" he muttered under his breath. "I am sure that I will meet with you today..."  
  
After spending some time keeping to himself, Hotohori had healed his seared shoulder with his broken heart and had pondered over his feelings. Going over it, he had arrived at a conclusion. No one can ever take Nuriko's place in my heart. He is for me, as I was for him. I had already loved him with all my heart...  
  
A draft of wind lifted him, elevating him just as he caught a sight of a familiar form splayed in the grass underneath a shade of a monumental weeping willow. A slight breeze sifted through the thick purple tresses, as Hotohori fluttered closer. There was no doubt about it.  
  
"Nuriko!" settling down gently at the ground, he went over him and cradled him in his arms. "Masaka...demo...masaka!" Leaning close to him, he checked his pulse, praying, no...not Nuriko...he's not dead...I'm not going to let him die...!  
  
"I won't let you...! You're goofing up, aren't you?" Tears in his eyes, he rocked his wife, enfolding him with his arms. "You can't die...I-I love you too much..."  
  
Carrying him, Hotohori left the place immediately, taking off in the air. In a flash, he was at Nakago's splendid abode.  
  
"Doushita? How could you do such a thing to someone I love?" Hotohori faced Nakago, who was clothed in royal blue, a cold expression on his eyes.  
  
Shrugging, he attained an innocent air. "I don't know what you're talk-"  
  
"You do know what I'm talking about," Hotohori hissed, his manner feral, still holding Nuriko in his arms.  
  
"Oh...him..." HHe raised his eyebrows slightly. "Well, I didn't tell him to open that chest, did I? He got what he just deserved for being nosy."  
  
"I don't give a damn! All of these are in your plans!" he screamed, tears streaming, his features anguished. "Fine." Taking a deep breath, he continued on. "You know what, Nakago? I don't give a shit. Mark my words. I won't shoot the Arrows of Love for you. Why the hell would I care, anyway? Nuriko's dead and it's your fault." Throwing his bow and quiver of projectiles at Nakago's feet, he snarled, "Then you should have thought of messing up with us. With me." He stomped away, and then took off.  
  
Nakago pumped his foot impatiently, fuming. His son had made a clear point. Who will offer me sacrifices if love was gone from Earth? He tried not to panic. After all, he was god of love and beauty. Surely, he would be able to operate the bow and arrows? It was worth trying. He does not, and will never ever beg; Hotohori had known that.  
  
"You can't do this to me, you ungrateful..."  
  
Taiitsukun looked down at the Ningenkai and stifled a roar. He ran his fingers through his short-cropped dark hair and sighed. Chaos ruled. A bevy of young girls were fighting over a man in a tuxedo, while the one clutching his waist, her hair done like Miaka's kept saying to another young lady with long black hair, "Mars! He's my fiancé!"  
  
Meanwhile, a girl of about ten was kissing a winged horse, whispering, "Aishiteru..."  
  
Passing through them were a young man, getting chased by a squealing black pig with a yellow-and-black scarf, a furious girl, closely stalked by again, a girl with violet hair done in odango atama {siopao hair J}, a crowd stampeded toward them, shouting, "Ranma!" or "The girl with the red braid!"  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, his voice booming all through Taikyoku-zan. Putting two and two together, he called on Tomite. "Iku. Call Nakago and Hotohori. Ima." Tomite nodded and flitted out of sight.  
  
"So, you mean, you just need to resurrect your wife and get married..."  
  
Hotohori shook his head. "Iie. I need my...Nakago, to accept Nuriko as my wife, be married, and be immortal, so we can spend eternity together."  
  
Nakago's face remained stony. Tasuki blew his bangs, in defeat. "Well. You've grown up, a man. I accept your decision...you love her, do you?"  
  
Hotohori opened his mouth to speak but Taiitsukun cut him of with his steely eyes. "I don't see why the marriage can't be done if they really love each other, and as I can see, you had really fallen for this mortal female. Could we expect you, however, to regain your tasks as Envoy of Love if your request is granted...?"  
  
A small smile played at his face. "Hai. If he would be brought back to life..."  
  
Nakago snorted. "He...?" Taiitsukun faltered. But before anyone had a chance to protest, Tomite appeared with Nuriko, in his body, alive and breathing.  
  
Tasuki, Hotohori's father, gave a low whistle. "Lovely, alright. Charming. Good choice." The god of war patted his shoulder, muttering, "Yours for keeps."  
  
A red tinge appeared in his cheeks, but went to Nuriko and embraced him tight.  
  
A nymph materialized with a cup at her hand. Taiitsukun handed this to Nuriko. "Drink. This concoction is ambrosia. The Elixir of life; a cupful will turn you to an immortal." Taking it, he raised it to his mouth. Nakago intervened.  
  
"Are you really sure of this, Taiitsukun?"  
  
Taiitsukun shook his head. "Depends on Hotohori."  
  
Knowing that he had no way out of this, he retreated, livid, crossing his arms across his chest, seething silently in a corner. Subaru went to him, whispering, "You can't blame your son. He is in his own life to live. You can't change that..."  
  
Tasuki, cocking his head, surveyed Nuriko with his brown eyes. "You're really...a he?" The two of them nodded, Hotohori quite sheepish. Tasuki went on. "How did you know...intuition or what?"  
  
"Um..." Heat was radiating from Nuriko and Hotohori fidgeted, his face totally crimson. Grinning slyly at them, Tasuki chuckled. "Freshen up, you two. Your wedding's today, ne, if I'm not mistaken?" Nuriko raised his eyes for the first time, bowed low to the gods and Tasuki was able to see his face clearly. Cocking his head, he mumbled intelligibly to himself, and thumping his son on the back, he went away.  
  
The marriage was done at Taikyoku-zan that afternoon. The newly weds received a lot of flattering compliments, as a sign of earnestness, Hikitsu, god of wine, rewarded them of a species of grapes that contained their very fundamental nature.  
  
And what else could we say? Even Nakago joined in the festivities, rioting with the rest of them. Typically, Tasuki was drunk before an hour had passed. Arm in arm, that night, they rested peacefully, the first time in a long time, watching the seven constellations of Suzaku, their divine protector. 


End file.
